Inkling 2023 - Flipbook - Page 27
by Grace Carson
head in its hands, and only makes itself
known through quiet, muffled sobs. You
tried to speak to it, once.
“Why are you here? You don’t berate me
with words, or try to bargain with me,
or sit in my bed with me, or do much of
anything really. You’ve never been cruel
to me.
What do you want?” You asked it, half
expecting the creature not to answer at
all. The creature lifted its head, and you
gasped. It had tears running down its
face, your face.
It smiled sadly, longingly, and spoke in
your voice:
“I miss her. So much.”
You leave your weeping mirror to itself
now.
Tonight, things are about to change. You
stand in front of your door. You reach
out. Turn the knob. Take a breath and
say a prayer. The door opens, and you
step outside. The house cries out for
you, begs you to stay. You will not listen
Grace is a runner-up
in the Short Story
category for this
year’s Teen Writing
Contest.
to it anymore.
There is a lady outside, dressed in
yellow. She is the only other being in
these streets, and she is elusive, always
waiting just out of your reach. Like a
game of tag, you chase after her, run
until your lungs burn and your legs
give out, sending you tumbling onto
the unforgiving, empty road. One day,
it clicks. You’re going to let her come
to you instead. You find somewhere to
sit and wait, under a tree surrounded
by gently swaying grass, picking bright
flowers. After what could have been
hours, or days, or maybe even weeks,
you see her silhouette approaching
you. She climbs the hill and sits next to
you. Grabs your hand. You look at her,
and she looks just like you remember,
and nostalgia hits you like a truck. She
hesitates, but moves closer, and puts
her head on your shoulder. You lean
your head on hers. No words are said,
and maybe none ever will be. But for
now, you’re content to sit and watch the
sunset, with her head on your shoulder.
INKLING 2023 | 27
